


Sea in your Eyes

by orphan_account



Category: EXO
Genre: ChanSoo - Freeform, ChenSoo, EXO - Freeform, M/M, idkwhatimdoing, yeet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-20 21:49:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21063731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: In a tale of sea creatures and mind’s imagination.





	1. 1

Chapter 1 (10/9/1974)

It was a sunny day at the seaside, and Kyungsoo is sitting on the shore while scribbling on his diary. Every year he would buy a new diary, it is now July, so the pages are wearing away on the edges, the pages have grooves where the pen has marked, sometimes he would ghost over as he worked out his experiences and emotions he felt that day. The texture is no longer stiff but soften with the creases of his fingertips, and the colour has turned light smoky yellow, even though Kyungsoo likes to keep his work as clean as possible, smears of ink that he smudged accidentally decorated his diary playfully. 

‘Dear Diary,

Today is a normal day, as you have probably expected. I am not a exciting person, I admit, I promised myself to be more adventurous in the future. Today we have an essay to write about same old board, seemingly philosophical, seemingly stupid stuff, and it turns out to be ‘the world’, a lot of things to write, at the same time so empty because there is just too much to write, I am not sure of what I want to write, I never was. Let’s just say, I could write about nature, humanity, environmental awareness, poverty or natural disaster, just so much. And as you know I let my mind wander into all the smallest creaks of life, I explore a lot because the world is full of curiosity and attraction and colours. How can I be specific about the world when the world itself is non-specific? I really do not want to receive an F, like last time with the comment, “not talking about the main subject, but the branches of it, try relate the writing to the topic as frequently as possible.” And yes I am talking about that instance awfully lot, but. Anyway, you probably is bored by it now. I guess you would like to hear that I made a new friend or get a good score like my mom wants me to ( she is still nagging about this ). That ain’t happening anytime sooner.’

‘What is not happening? A new friend?’ A voice chirps right next to Kyungsoo’s right ear, sounding like crystal and as cheerful as always.

Kyungsoo slams the diary shut, red hot embarrassment rushes to his face and he glares at Jongdae, who is grimacing at Kyungsoo’s look.

‘You know I have probably read all of your diary, don’t act oh-so-secretive,’ Jongdae slides onto the ragged rock next to him. 

‘You have seaweed in your hair,’

‘And I smell like the ocean ‘cause I just swam in it! The water is so warm! Like... Like...’ Jongdae has never been good with words, can’t blame him, he has never attended school.

‘Did it remind you of someone?’ Kyungsoo is always there to guide him to speak his mind.

‘Ah! I know,’ Jongdae jumps up and claps his hands, with sand flying into Kyungsoo’s hair, he sent Kyungsoo these words, ‘like liquid snakes.’

Kyungsoo shudders at the sound of it, and corrects Jongdae, ‘You mean like mother’s embrace? That’s what most people refer the ocean to.’

Jongdae side-eyed him and said, ‘Boring.’ With some thought added, ‘unless you mother is as vast as the ocean, and there are fishes in her. She has to be wet too!’

‘But the sea has nothing to do with snakes either! If anything, they are are even weirder! The ocean doesn’t have fangs or venom!’

‘Sharks would be the fangs and jellyfish the venom! I mean! The sea is as smooth as snakes and the wrinkles on the surface are like the way snakes wriggle.’

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and protests, attempt to voice out a better smilie. Jongdae shuts him up with, ‘So you want to be more adventurous?’ Jongdae bows down in order to look into Kyungsoo’s eyes in close proximity. His eyes always sparkle with mischief and innocence, and he sure smells like the ocean, salty and fresh. With seaweed dangling in front of his forehead, Kyungsoo turns his gaze to the ocean, searching for gulls, just to avoid Jongdae. Somehow he could still feel the warm that radiates from Jongdae in infra-red rays, and the warm breath that moves his hair, just slightly. Kyungsoo signs in defeat and whispers to himself than to Jongdae, ‘I told you not to read my diary...’

‘You know I would read it sooner or -,’ Jongdae starts but gets cut off.

‘I know but I do not necessarily want it to happen,’

‘I am your best friend! But these few days, you would not even go into details about your day. When did the diary becomes a better friend than me! Is it because of them? They tell you that I am not real? So as to estrange me? Is it!’

Jongdae flings a stone into the ocean and the ocean breaks then ripples out and mends itself. ‘I am real, as real as the sea and as you!’

‘I am sorry,’ Kyungsoo mutters. Though his blurry peripheral vision he saw Jongdae’s eyes reflecting in the sunlight, like a glass’ surface. ‘Can we not talk about it now? This topic is draining me out.’

‘Then you need to promise that you will acknowledge the fact that I am real and treat me like your friend.’

Kyungsoo hums, they sat quiet for a while, just feeling the wind change and watching the sea rise and fall. 

‘I wanted to show you my new friend today but I guess next time?’ 

Kyungsoo hums again. Something’s on his mind apparently, Jongdae is keen on detecting on the mood.

‘Care to tell me?’

‘Next time,’ 

‘Do you want to do anything else?’ 

‘I-‘ the telephone rings and puts a halt to the serenity with the alarm.

‘Hey mum?’

‘Are you at the shore? Huh? Again?’

‘No, mum, no. I am at the ice cream shop, it was hot.’

‘Come home quickly! I made you some really cooling dishes! Dad would be home earlier today too!’

‘Okay, sure.’

‘Why do you sound so down? Aren’t you happy that dad is here together with us today? Don’t worry, it would be over soon. It is fine, it alll will be fine. We are all here for you.’ 

‘Um. Okay. Bye.’

Jongdae sees the gloom blooming on Kyungsoo’s face, ‘Do you want me to meet your family?’

Kyungsoo squints at him, ‘You said you were scared of them?’

‘Well,’ he shrugs, ‘If it could save you some trouble, then I, maybe, could?’ 

‘No, it is not worth it, I can deal with it,’ Kyungsoo gives Jongdae a weak smile, in the sun light, he could see the salt in his hair, on his skin, shiny white fragments. Kyungsoo walks towards the sea and gestures Jongdae to come along. ‘Let me accompany you back to your home, I do not think I would be seeing you for a period of time.’

‘But I still want to introduce you to my new friends!’

‘Are they fishes? Or prawns?’

Upon hearing this, Jongdae frowns and whines, ‘Why do you always...’ Kyungsoo chuckles, ‘Go ahead, tell me.’

‘While he is a siren, not a girl, a boy, but not a human. Also, not as scary as you think.’

‘Does he lure sailors to be devoured by the sea? I have read Odyssey and the description isn’t the prettiest.’

‘How did Homer describe sirens then?’

‘If anyone draws in too close and hears the singing of the sirens, His wife and children will never welcome him home again, for they sit in a green field and warble him to death with the sweetness of their song. There is a great heap of dead men’s bones lying all around, with the flesh still rotting off them.’ 

Jongdae’s face scrunches up like the crumbled handkerchief, ‘Well, his voice is definitely delightful and luring, but it is not a spell. I have never seen anyone enchanted by his voice.’ Jongdae trails off, his mind swarming in the times he has been with the siren, found nothing harmful, then he continued, ‘but he does have a weird ability. So strange that I hid in the ocean for an hour before meeting him again. He has laughed in my face for being such a coward!’ Kyungsoo sees a smile gracing Jongdae’s cat-like lips, his eyebrows dipping downward, and adoration is swimming in his eyes, somehow, Kyungsoo starts to smile, like a mirror. 

‘I guess he is really nice, then,’ 

‘You do not even know his ability. How-‘

‘The happiness on your face is a scale, I believe it has reached ‘love struck,’ Kyungsoo starts to laugh, and the seagulls start to folic around, chasing the spindrift after the ship, catching the fishes. 

‘Well, then you are giving me a chance to say surprise!’ They were still laughing when Jongdae steps into the water, when the water engulfs him, he lingers in the shallow for a while. Kyungsoo remembers something, so he shouts, ‘I will try to find time to meet you! Don’t disappear!’ Jongdae swims into the heart of the ocean and jumps out, his scales shimmering in the sunlight like a rainbow, translucent and Kyungsoo knows Jongdae heard him. 

On the road back home, the old familiar bricks Kyungsoo has stepped on everyday, rainy to snowy to sunny, he has familiarise with the grooves that he has tripped over. Usually, he would be in deep thoughts, fretting over exams and social life, without a thought on the road thus tripping over stones, but today, he is painfully aware it might be the last time he saw Jongdae in board daylight and even more so with the abnormality this friendship brood. He understands Jongdae’s fear of human, just like human fear the unknown, the difference is human are more powerful and thus more aggressive in face of the un-explored. Kyungsoo counts himself as lucky when Jongdae decides to place his trust in the hands of a gloomy teenage. When Kyungsoo was 13, he discovered this little road to the sea, Kyungsoo finally found a place to hide from all the duties and troubles a human (or a high-schooler) has to face, Kyungsoo still blames the emotional turmoils on puberty and hormones, the ocean must be really plain to ordinary eyes, because the shore is empty when holidays come. When the yellow and the endless blue ever-flowing, pouring from the sky and fills up to become an ocean, occasionally there is touches of white clouds floating and the horizon clearing to reveal hills of green. Kyungsoo finds himself ceases and staring into the void, content with the temporary freedom and loneliness. Most of the time, he would hug his knees to his chest and cry, not really understanding the origin of sorrow, it doesn’t have to be tears of sorrow though, Kyungsoo now reflects looking though the pages of the diary, it could be tears of relief, to revitalise himself fro the demanding routine and the stress it induces, to be able to slow down and finally feel the world around him in great details, only to find the fleeting happiness has eloped with another spirit and the looming sadness remains in every corner, in the newspaper and the marking sheet and in the faces of his parents. One awful day, when Kyungsoo dashed into this safe heaven with tears running wilder than his reckless speed, he still remembered the scar but that scorching pain it brought him has already been forgotten. He cried until the sun sets, from his blurred eyes, the sun burnt exceptionally bright and the colours brutal. He was tired and slept on the wet sand until the moon rises, the urban air is not ideal, so the moon was behind layers and layers of fog, only a fading spot of brightness was observed. He has never been so enchanted by the sea, it was not its prettiest nor the ugliest, but somethings about the moving water and the vastness and the deepness became a solution, albeit a silly one. He did not want to die, not yet, but the thought of when things gets out of hand, there is still a way out, and he could end the suffering if he wishes to, just a few stones and a nightly swim. He could die a legend like Virginia Woolf. A few visits to the sea after, he met Jongdae, or rather Jongdae lets Kyungsoo see him. 

‘Kyungsoo? You’re back!’ His mother’s happy voice calls out. 

‘Yes! I’m home!’ 

‘Your dad will be home soon, get ready. I cooked something nice,’

‘Aren’t you tired? You just come back from work,’

‘Nah, I’m fine, just get ready when I finish cooking, I don’t want to see your head buried in papers and I have to drag your ass out, that is the most tiring part,’

‘Mom!’

‘You have half an hour before dinner’s ready!’ Mom shouts with the last few words drowned out by the fire burning and the clanging of metal. 

Kyungsoo’s mother is a curious creature, you can see whose beautiful features Kyungsoo inherited from. She has been hard-working her whole life, Kyungsoo knows age won’t stop her from pursuing her goals and working. He sat down and decided to work on his essays. While he has absolutely no idea on what to write on ‘world’, he settles on writing the changes the planet has gone through, so he could touch on nature, humanity, evolution and a few revolutions and lastly how they arrive at the modern world with regulations and norms. As the writing lengthens, so does Kyungsoo’s disappointment rises, without an inspiration, the writing always comes off as empty and soulless, no to mention he gets carried away thinking about Jongdae’s existence, how nice if he could... if only the beauty of other species could be appreciated, Kyungsoo shakes off the distraction and continues his quest. Without a question, it will be another essay Kyungsoo spends hours upon perfecting and polishing, as it always have been. He should have learnt, with his perfectionism, his essays become redundant and reserved, clinging on one lengthy subject, but if the raw first draft was handed in, the itch to review the essay would keep him awake at night. Kyungsoo remembers reading his essay aloud to Jongdae as Jongdae cannot apprehend the random curves on paper known as letter, Jongdae changed quite a few ambiguous statements to bold assumptions, that scared Kyungsoo as it strayed from the existing knowledge database. 

‘It is called an opinion, an opinion at this moment is true, because it is what you believe in right? Next moment it might change but it doesn’t matter, at this moment you know you believe in it,’ Jongdae had said. 

Kyungsoo realised at that point, he had always been afraid of speaking his mind, thus heavily rely on facts and banish his thoughts as soon as they surface. A fatal habit, Jongdae would say. That particular essay scored a high mark. So, over years, Kyungsoo tries to formulate and rediscover his opinion, and bit by bit they flourish in his essay. His teachers have noticed this change and with kind remarks, they lead him out of his shells and better express himself. The doorbell signifies the return of his dad and Kyungsoo is back to writing the essay, almost at the same time, dinner’s ready. Warm homey smell rises in the form of steam and fills the space between them, dinner proceeds as usual, with them watching news and parents sharing their stories from work. 

‘One of our patient is going to die today,’ Kyungsoo has no idea how the conversation arrived here but somehow it sneaks its way here, it must be on her mind for so long. 

‘Why?’ 

Mom explains the situation while dad demands for more details. Growing up in a medical background, Kyungsoo understands perfectly what’s happening, but he has no intention to repeat the gut-wrenching story again. Dad, being a technician, talks about mistakes and possible plan to save her life, and mom counters all of them. When the damage is clearly irreversible, dad asks,

‘Is her family by her side?’

‘No.’

‘So, she is dying alone?’

Mum breathes as she looks away from dad, ‘Soo, have a drumstick.’

‘I have one already, you should eat it.’

The heavy air is unbreathable so Kyungsoo tries to use his dry humour to lighten the mood. He cracks a bunch of silly, senseless jokes, at first it was awkward and the jokes are unappreciated. Then Kyungsoo remembers a funny scene from his childhood so he recaps it, his parents reminisces the good old day and digs up even more cherished funny moments, they are all laughing and the sound echos in their living room, it seems like the house is laughing with them. When they have satisfied their thirst and hunger and clean away the dishes. 

Dad announces, ‘Kyungsoo. Mom and I have discussed this matter for a while now, and we believe it is the best time to tell you now. This Wednesday, you are going to meet a therapist.’ 

Kyungsoo’s eyebrows knots together as he mindlessly pick on his food.

‘And stop playing with your food,’

‘What therapist?’

‘A psychiatrist.’

‘A what?’

‘You hear me perfectly well. You are meeting a psychiatrist.’

‘Why?’

‘Based on your diary and your recent behaviours, we are afraid that you are going crazy,’

‘You have read my diary,’ Kyungsoo states with his owl eyes burning with disbelief and then again states in a soft voice, ‘You have read my diary. Why? Oh, why?’

The diary is a hidden part of him, he writes unspoken thoughts in his diary and let them develop without the judgmental scrutiny of external pressure. Every time he writes, he rips a part of him and forces himself to reflect on it, whether it is good or bad. Sometimes, he writes about memories so he could still return to them when he hardens and grows, to find the man he abandoned half way. Maybe it is the time he would allow himself to be transparent and vulnerable, when he could care less perfection and more about the rawness of that instant. However, who is he to protest about other’s reading his diary? He could only blame himself for not keeping it safe. 

‘Yes and there are mentions of imaginary creatures. I have sent some to the therapist so she could have a background knowledge and more precise diagnosis.’

‘You did not ask for my permission. The diary! And you should know mythical creatures are mere presentations of creativity! I never said they are not real!’

‘She will consider that factor as well, your teachers have reflected to me that you have some outrageous comments on your recent essays. You have also mentioned to us several times that you have made new friends, but when we consult your teachers, they could not observe such a change. And everyday after school you disappear, you said that you are going to the sea but we all know that our city is inland, sea is half an earth away.’

‘Maybe it’s riverside, I do not know, it is a puddle of water! And I am lying to you about friends, you are always annoying me with the notion of friends, so it costs me less trouble if I made someone up...’

‘Kyungsoo, are you on drugs?’ His mom cuts his sentence. And kyungsoo swears he felt his soul leaving him and his vision going black. 

‘I am not! You cannot see any symptoms of me abusing drugs. I am still scoring a good mark on exams!’

‘Why are you hallucinating? Do you have schizo-‘

Dad gestures her to shut up and concludes, ‘We will leave it to the professionals, go to your room and finish your homework,’

Maybe this is all too confusing, a floodgate crushed by assumptions. After going through his files of memory, Kyungsoo feels like he is slowly losing grip of reality and his sanity flickers like the weak string of smoke from the candle, he would just need a whirlwind to knock it out. His reasoning brain convinces him that if he sleeps earlier tonight, and by the time he wakes up, it wil all become a dream. Darkness only sharpens his vision, and his confusions project itself onto shadows and becomes lively animations. Leaping from a place to another, engulfing so more debris, his anxiety dominates the darkness. He should be crying over his problems, laughing at the absurdity (and then loses his mind) or finish his accursed essay, instead he feels tried, like a lead sinking into his bed. Shadows restore their neutrality, and unmoving, like his heart. He closes his eyes, and his mind leaving his body travelling somewhere, floating. Not feel his limbs was the last sensation he felt before melting into sleep.


	2. 2

Chapter 2 (11/9/1947) 

When the rosy fingered Dawn touches Kyungsoo’s eyelid, sunlights already flood the room and some seep out of the room though the cracks on the door. Kyungsoo slams the alarm shut, dressed up as usual, packed his bag and went to the living room. 

‘Hi, Kyungsoo! I have made scones for you!’ Mom says as she wipes her hands on her apron. 

‘It taste magnificent,’ dad says between mouthfuls.

‘Don’t speak with your mouth full,’

Dad drinks some water to wash the scone down, ‘Okay, okay. Kyungsoo come and eat!’

As usual, he puts jam and cream on his scone. And as usual, his mother never fails to make sleepy morning delightful. Mom hands Kyungsoo his lunch bag and he puts it in his school bag. Every morning dad will be the news reporter in the household. Today is no difference, he makes remarks and analysis of every column. Kyungsoo would always discuss with him to get more background information and debates will break out ever so often. Today is no difference, after a heated debate, they come to a conclusion of the importance of nuclear weapon. Mom always say dad is the smartest in the atmosphere, as his team is working on the radio, dad would always tease mom for being ‘stupid’ when she has troubles with electricity, and mom would reply, ‘Well, this stupid brain is saving people every day, with a bonus, your dying ass is saved by our team.’ Kyungsoo bid his goodbye to his family and passes the vancant shop. The younger generation looks up to the older generation for surviving, having survived the Second World War comes with the cost of losing a part of your body and potentially, losing your mind. Just like his neighbour, whose curtains draw close and Kyungsoo can only see his reflection on the glass as he now passes by. Dad scorns his neighbour, for Mr Park sits on his wheelchair and stares at the plates everyday, cold and unmoving, mom pities them as she has treated his wounds and seen the bombed-scarred earth and bullets splints stuck to the youthful face. Sometimes she would give Mrs Park some baked goods. Poor women, she would say after the visit and go on to talk about how withered her face becomes. Summer is coming close to an end, the wind is crisper so the leaves chants their crispy blues. But the heat of summer can still be felt though the thin fabric, and Kyungsoo could not hate this weather more. Humid air plugs Kyungsoo’s nostril, and tingly skin tells him that a storm is coming. He prays dearly for rain, so the temperature can drop. I need to water my cactus, the thought pops up out of the blue. The flowers in the Mrs. Park’s garden are dying though, dark brown like soil, crushed beneath luggage and boxes. He met Miss Russell at the crossroad, greeting each other with a bright smile, they exchanged usual pleasantries. 

‘Going to work?’

‘Yes, you school?’

‘As usual. What are you designing on?’

‘An engine, used in planes! I am trying to lower the cost while keeping the efficiency.’

‘I guess you changed the material? I don’t know. Aluminium?’

‘Nice guess, but we are using alloys, one metal alone has too much disadvantages, so we are using multiple to make up. But the blades do contain aluminium.’

‘What alloys are used though?’

‘Nickel, titanium for the body and blades are the same with aluminium.’

‘You are working on the percentage and shape?’

‘Exactly. Clever boy! I gotta get going. See you around!’

Kyungsoo does not know what he would be when he grows up, his interest is spread board and thin. His mom wants him to be a doctor, while his dad wants him to be an engineer, Kyungsoo likes them but not invested in them, his teachers told him to take it slow, for jobs is 95% of his adult life, and choosing a wrong job could kill. Miss Russell told him, finding a job is like finding your wife, for you will face it day in and day out, you have to make sure you would still kiss the same face when it is worn by time. Kyungsoo could not picture himself kissing any faces, though. As if he already has too little to fret about, 10 days since school-opening, down comes his social life ‘issues’, mom would never stop interrogating him. When he arrives at school, he bids greetings to the nice portion of the class and settles in the middle row. Kyungsoo loves studying instead of boring teachers, who unfortunately make up 90%. home period is just another excuse for dozing off, still, you need to catch snippets of announcements. Junmyeon, the class president, sits next to him, before Junmyeon has the time to say hi, Kyungsoo beats him to that. 

‘Aren’t class president suppose to sit in the front row? I do not wish you get a scolding from our King-Kong.’

‘Our Vice President has it under control. I am going to laze around for today. And if King-Kong decides to roar at the whole class and thumps her chest,’ Junmyeon shrugs. ‘I can’t do anything about it.’

‘Welcome to the comfy, warm and sacredly quiet spot.’ Junmyeon pats Kyungsoo’s shoulder and laughs. 

‘Good morning class!’ Ms Lee shouts.

‘Goo—d morn—ing— Ms— Lee—‘ the class lengthens every syllabary back while some students share questioning looks, ‘Why is she so early?’ 

‘Gonna be a hard day for us, can’t imagine yours,’ Kyungsoo jokes

Junmyeon squeezes out broken pieces of laughter, but only air comes out. Ms Lee being early only means one thing, there will be a lecture about morals and discipline, occasionally school rules, and the class president will be ordered around, handing out worksheets, writing on blackboard and marking down naughty students. 

‘Junmyeon! Come here!’ 

‘On my way!’ Junmyeon hurries down, running between chairs and desks. Ms Lee inquires for vacant seats and Junmyeon says the front rows are mostly vacant. The class is momentarily silent, curious eyes inquiring.

‘Today we are welcoming a new student! And Junmyeon, you will take care of him from now onward. I hope you can sit next to him for the first week, as to show him around.’

Class erupts into chatters, at the beginning of school, there are already 5 new students sitting among the old, why is this newcomer so late?

‘Shut up! How many times do I need to remind you to stay quiet whatever I am doing?’

Junmyeon writes ‘Please stay quite’ on the board. While the Vice President, Minseok, corrects it. 

‘Chanyeol, come on in!’ Ms Lee smiles, appearing all kind right after looking like a lion in the zoo. ‘And introduce yourself.’

Chanyeol towers over Ms Lee even when he is hunching his shoulders and peeking through his bangs. The class is silent, all over again, interrogating with their accusing eyes. 

‘Hi, everybody. I am Park Chanyeol. Please take care of me,’ Junmyeon and Minseok introduce themselves and shake hands. Kyungsoo muses to himself, his voice sounds like old leather, blackened with fire. The class stares at Chanyeol, waiting for him to elaborate, but the shyness of Chanyeol acts like a rubber band and the class is actively pulling at it. Some girls in the room start their daily dose of gossip. One of them is bold enough to shout, ‘Are you free this lunch? We can show you around, and you know, explore the unknown.’ The sentence ends with a wink and a vague undertone, luckily, Ms Lee did not catch on that. Chanyeol just shakes his head and avoids further eye contact. The girls laugh boisterously and flies kisses, Chanyeol’s face blushed enduringly red. Kyungsoo feels like Jongdae would love to witness this, so he filmed it on his phone, mind drifting about how would Jongdae react. The bell rang before Ms Lee has a chance to finish her speech on helping each other out and make the campus home-like. Kyungsoo’s mind blanked out the whole time. During the rest of the classes, Kyungsoo sees Chanyeol following Junmyeon around, as closely as a shadow. Kyungsoo belatedly realises that Chanyeol is wearing grey, no wonder Chanyeol reminds him of shadow. When Kyungsoo is having his lunch in the dB100 caterteria, he found a sticker on his lunch box reminding him that the first therapy section starts right after school, Kyungsoo mindlessly tears it to shreds while he eats the kimbap. 

‘...soo! KYUNGSOO!’ The said guy snaps out of his state of blankness and towards the origin of sound, he found Junmyeon slams his tray onto the table. 

‘Why did you not respond?’ Junmyeon puts his best angry face on, but he just looks like a baby.

‘Thinking about the goddamn essay. Sorry,’ 

‘Don’t remind me, I feel like breaking my laptop when I wrote it. But it is done, thank heaven,’

‘Finished? I am just half-way through. Chanyeol, you are so lucky! You don’t have to write it,’ Chanyeol peeks at Kyungsoo and raises an eyebrow.

‘I am pretty sure Mr Chan will force him to do that, though. You know him,’

‘What essay?’ Chanyeol cuts Junmyeon’s comment into half and that successfully grabs both boy’s attention. Chanyeol is fidgeting his chopstick and eyes searching anxiously for an answer. 

‘Don’t worry. It is just an essay about ‘World’, Junmyeon is a top student, so he is just faking all the unease,’ Kyungsoo replies.

‘I—‘ 

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes in order to shut the humble protests, aka shameless bragging, ‘I know you too well.’ 

‘So, I need to worry about it or not?’ 

‘No worries! Absolutely not. This genius right here,’ Kyungsoo points to his left. ‘Is more than enough to help you to get an A.’

‘Well, Junmyeon with glasses does remind me of a miniature crazy scientist, like Einstein,’ These murmurs from Chanyeol turn Kyungsoo into a laughing mess.

‘We need to stop this before it ruins my reputation,’ Junmyeon says.

‘Hey, Junmyeon! Catch!’ The cheerleader, Joy, calls out while a silver pom-pom is flying across the room.

Catching off guard, the pom-pom falls straight onto his head, like a wig, it fits in.

‘You look like Einstein!’ Joy exclaims. ‘Make us the famous-sticking-your-tongue-out-Einstein look! We will be needing it in our flyers!’

Wendy takes her camera out and signals 123. Junmyeon covers his face in embarrassment and the class chants ‘Do it, do it!’ And the historical moment of Einstein reappeared was captured. The cafeteria cheers, even the staff are laughing. The little circle shakes the table with their joy, Chanyeol claps his hands, while Kyungsoo cries happiness through tears and Junmyeon throwing the pom-poms onto the table. Even when lunch is long over and they are walking to English Literature class, the face of others is enough to reduce them to blushing giggles. 

When recess comes, Kyungsoo is alone in the library, reading a science periodic. He is not aware when Chanyeol sits next to him, looking around, and leaving, then coming back, satisfied with a book in his hand. When Kyungsoo finishes jotting notes and reading, he sat and looks out into nothingness, glancing at the book occasionally as he clears out the scientific formulas and interpretations. When he cracked the code, he exclaimed with relief, it felt like the veil before a unknown land has shown itself in all its glory. Kyungsoo carefully examines his surrounding to secure his mind back to the reality. All the time, he smiles with stars in his eyes which obscure, again, Chanyeol. Chanyeol, on the other hand, is painfully aware of the dormant volcano next to him, and flinches at Kyungsoo’s sudden explosion, albeit the quiet. Glad I am not reading a horror book, Chanyeol muses to himself and chuckles. Kyungsoo is surprised at himself for expecting Chanyeol to be here. 

‘Hey. Yeollie,’ Kyungsoo scouts closer to the younger. ‘What are you reading?’

The cringe of hearing the nickname went unaddressed. ‘It’s a book about...’ Chanyeol stopped abruptly when he saw the science periodic, all the symbols demeans his foolish passion for art. Chanyeol looks up to see Kyungsoo still waiting for him to answer, the scrutinising gaze behind the thick glasses. 

At a loss of words, Chanyeol scratches his neck and replies, ‘it’s nothing.’ 

‘Art is useless, boring, and he should read something profound and be a intelligent man’, along with sneers, were the remarks Chanyeol gets all his life. Art to him has always been a paradise Chanyeol never wants to leave. But art is a bringer of shame, and he, the fool, therefore he estrange himself from the group of losers and strives to be a ‘better man’. One day, when he walks on the streets and see the posters of prodigies standing tall with beauty in their hands, Chanyeol realises with envy in his heart, that he is never good enough for art. With all the geniuses shining in the spotlight, boardcasting their love for art, Chanyeol is left alone in the dark. Hating himself being so attached to art, he cries tears of bitterness at night and reads books of art in the morning. What art is he interested in? He could not explain it himself, paintings, music, poems, anything beautiful and colourful. He communicates and expresses the best while strumming the strings o his guitar and singing poems by others. Chanyeol sinks into the shelves as his soul digs through his body. 

‘Don’t be like that,’ Kyungsoo says as he scans the page, taking in all the illustrious figures and graceful curves. ‘Is it about paintings?’

He is accustomed to the resentful replies which makes a simple, direct reaction a hard pill to swallow for it re-ignites his hope for pursuing art. Chanyeol shifts in his seat and discretely shields the book from Kyungsoo. ‘I thought you would never notice my presence.’

‘Don’t be silly. Why aren’t you with Junmyeon, though?’

‘Can’t stand the crowd and the noise.’

‘I guess you are stuck in the library for the rest of the school year. Good luck.’

Chanyeol smiles weakly as he traces the outlines of the figures, he is stuck in the silence that swallows his own echos for way too long. 

‘I have a friend who loves art too, an opinionated brat,’Kyungsoo relaxes into the memory of sunshine and the creature in the sea. 

‘Really? No offence, I thought you were a loner.’ 

‘No doubt. Do you paint, then?’

‘No, I can’t. I am just bored.’

‘Why do you like paintings?’

‘I don’t like them, I am just bored so I picked a random one.’

‘Don’t lie. A normal person can’t understand paintings, well, not me. Those ignorant idiots visiting museum to see great paintings and acting like professionals are sickening.’

Chanyeol huffs and closes his book. 

‘How do you understand paintings, then?’

‘How do you understand math?’

‘I study them?’

‘Oh.’

‘Why?’

‘I thought the process of understanding math and art are similar, just did not expect them to be so fundamentally different. Well, art is to feed the soul, so you feel. You feel it, all the theories are just opening a gateway of how painters express themselves. You should just take everything in and let it sink in and hit you.’ Chanyeol’s strands of soul start to unfurl and detach, floating free. Chanyeol is tired of feeling unworthy and ashamed of art, even if the after effect is going to hurt him all over again, he doesn’t care, he can always recover but moments when he can declare his love of art is rare, he makes sure it is grasped. 

‘Well, then math is more deliberate. You take the phenomena of the world, find the pattern, and express them in the simplest language you can manage. That’s why math stays true. You know, try different perspectives and see math in different lights. It could be surprising.’

‘I guess interpretations are never complete without examples.’

Upon hearing this, the bridge between them connect, frail but good enough. Their eyes are reopened, finally knowing how alone they both have been, and how desperately they wish to have a listener.


	3. 3

When school is over and Kyungsoo is at home, fiddling with the note his family left him. The ink is dried and greyish, not the fresh black, it was mostly written by his father, with his mom adding reminders somewhere along on the edges.

‘To Soo,

Today will be the first time visiting the therapist, so be a respectful boy you have always been. There might be quite a lot of madman loitering around, so be careful, do not have unnecessary eye contacts with strangers. Come back home right after the visit, do not stay. Remember to wear a hat, we do not want anyone label you as a ‘psycho’, mom is certain that the treatment will be over pretty soon. [I really do, my baby boy. It will be okay. We are with you]. Whatever the diagnosis is, the doctors [it is psychiatrist] will do their best to cure you, I believe there is a cure, yours is mild. [I have seen worse, thank heaven. They are help you and us.] Do not hide any informations from the psychiatrist, tell her what she wants to know. [We know you are a shy boy, especially in front of a female, but don’t be. She is a loving women, just like me.] Write us back a report letter about what happened. Do not worry about follow-ups, she will inform us. Do not worry about the cost, it is affordable, all we want is you to get better.

9/1974’

The confusion clouds Kyungsoo’s mind. Questions of why and when did he look psychotic never leaves his mind. He is just an ordinary boy, who has no intention of harming others, let along be in a wrong state of mind. Kyungsoo definitely sees no resemblance between him and the delirious madman who chases down innocent people with crimson dripping off his hand and black lingering in his mind. Kyungsoo changed into his casual clothing and walked towards the clinic. The black clouds Kyungsoo saw earlier on the day has broken up and drifted away, the sun is blinding and feathers of blue are right under the sun, sailing. Kyungsoo skips down the street. He is trying to cheer himself up by acting like a kid. It’s okay, he chants. He focuses on the shop, the displays, the designs, letting colours occupy his mind. Waiting for the motor cars to pass, he recognises the street but not the white building at the end of it. It still does not make sense. Somehow, the receptionist is yawning and mistaken him for visitor, when Kyungsoo asks for her name to properly address her, the receptionist gives him a dirty look and scolds him for keeping others waiting. All the staff are flocking up and down, one moment they are sweeping the floor and was called to get some syringes. Their cloths hang loosely, their eyeballs sunk into the sockets, heated arguments with patient flashes like sparks when metals grind against each other, but soon shushed away for triggering another episode. They are clutching on straws to make a living. When his name is called and he is moving down the corridor, he saw a blur of grey sweater, grey wheelchair and grey hair, half shielded by the door. When he turns back to look at the room, a staff was leaving and shutting the room. 

‘Hi, Kyungsoo!’ A women smiled warmingly. ‘Call me Ms Kim. Have a seat.’

‘Hi Ms Kim.’

‘So, your parents are curious about your condition. I have read the materials they sent me. And yes, there are mentions of hallucination, but no signs of drug abuse.’

‘Then, can I go?’

‘No, no. We are afraid that you may have schizophrenia.’

‘What is that?’

‘We will explain it to your family, now relax, don’t worry.’

‘I am very relaxed and I demand for an explanation.’

‘I am sorry, but we are afraid it may trigger another episode.’  
‘You have to explain! You can’t just throw it into my face and expect me to accept that. You are accusing me of being mentally unstable. A madman’

‘Calm down. If you want an explanation, we will certainly give you. Schizophrenia is when people have false belief, hallucinations. In general, not being able to understand what’s real or what’s not.’

‘And?’

‘You mentioned in your diary about a man, no, I mean creature named Jongdae? Am I right?’

‘He is a product of my imaginations.’

‘And he is like a mermaid or some sort?’

In all honesty, Kyungsoo is not sure. He only know that Jongdae has scales when swimming in the ocean. But Kyungsoo wants to get out as soon as possible so he might just roll with it. 

‘Yes.’

‘Is he a lovely friend?’

‘I am not sure.’

‘From your description, he seems like a person everybody wants to befriend!’

‘As you say.’

‘Don’t be so discouraged. A lot of our patients send flowers to thank us,’ she points to the vase next to her. White chrysanthemums extend their numberless petals outwards, like ripples, curving downwards, there are some dead leaves fallen onto the table, with yellow lilies shooting up to the sky, furiously holding their form up. 

‘It blends well with the background,’ Kyungsoo remarks. 

They went on to talk, none of them yielding. Persisting, Ms Kim tells Kyungsoo to come back next week. 

When Kyungsoo is home, the house already smells like tomatoes. Dad buries his mind in the newspaper on the table and his head in his hands. Seeing Kyungsoo home seems to spark up a new energy. 

‘Anything happened at school today?’

Kyungsoo tells them about Einstein and Junmyeon, and the new kid Chanyeol.

‘Are you friends with them?’

‘Yes, I guess?’

‘That’s some good news! Ms Kim-‘

‘Junmyeon is everybody’s friend, he doesn’t count. Your friendship may bud with the new kid, if you would try harder. Can we have our meal already? I am starving!’ 

Mom rolls her eyes and comes out with three plates of tomato spaghetti with meatballs. Kyungsoo went into the kitchen to carry out a vegetable soup. 

‘You know expanding your social circle is beneficial to brain development,’ dad comments. No one responds, they just keep eating their dinner. Dad was wanting to explain further, but the lack of response makes him swallow all the unspoken words with spaghetti. 

‘Anything happens at work?’ Mum remarks.

‘Had some problems with our biggest sponsor, he said if we fail to have progress in the next month, he would stop sponsoring us. We are trying to speed things up. But there are still issues left unsolved.’

‘What issues?’ Kyungsoo pipes up.

‘You would not understand, just focus on the exam coming up.’

‘But that is six months later,’

‘Still, be prepared. You can study for your tests or quizzes, be alert. Do not slack.’

‘I just thought I could help. You are fond of Miss Russell and she says that I am clever.’

‘She is just taking care of your feelings,’

‘Will you lose your job?’ Mum cuts through.

‘If we can convince him to continue sponsoring us, then everything will sail smoothly,’

‘Hopefully, the economic nowadays is not very good. Many people cannot pay their medical bills. And we had to kick some patients out.’ 

‘Poor fellas. When will government set up medical insurances for citizens like us?’

‘A public hospital will do its job, government is just stingy, like a rat.’

After dinner, Kyungsoo went to his room and did his homework. Essay finished, letter written. He stares out of the window, thinking about the society, how it strays away from their initial envision. Nobody can afford to be sick, how ridiculous. Kyungsoo’s heart is sore, so he laughs quietly, how ridiculous. 

The moon is nowhere to be seen, the roads and trees are glowing. When Kyungsoo leans over to look down, the green turf thrives luxuriantly as no one cares to to cut it. So, he ponders, he waits, waiting for footsteps and then darkness, followed by silence. He creeps to his parents’ room and found them asleep, beaten down by work. Kyungsoo goes back to his room and waits a bit more, prepares for the fall and jumps out the window. The landing was soft, being pricked by the grass, he is careful not to yelp. And like that, in the blanket of greenery, he waits again, picking up any signs of life. Trash can being emptied, singing in the next door and rats nibbling on wood. Kyungsoo glances from side to side, careful not to be noticed by his neighbour. And he sprints. Left, down the Main Street, right, into the alley, then another, across the bridge, roundabout, stopping at the 3/4 of the circle and pushing open the rusty fence. The wind of the sea blows right into his embrace. Kyungsoo pants a bit, waiting for the adrenaline to wear off. He shouts into the night.

‘Jongdae!’ The sound eased out by the rustling of sand, rhythm of waves. Feeling hopeless, Kyungsoo yells again, ‘Jongdae! Are you here?’ Looking around and gulping down his anticipation. 

‘Kyungsoo! What are you doing in the dead of the night?’ A voice calls out. When Kyungsoo saw the familiar silhouette, Kyungsoo hugs it tightly, without saying anything. They swayed like this, with arms interlacing and bodies touching. Jongdae hums an unknown tune, soft like spider silk undulating in the turbulence, the voices of Sea and Wind harmonise. 

‘Anything that you would tell me before the diary?’

‘I won’t be write on the damned diary anymore.’

Jongdae laughs, falling back into the sand.

‘You might break your head on some stones,’ Kyungsoo sits next to him.

‘I am not supposed to die so young,’

‘Will it rain tonight?’ Kyungsoo glances at the accumulating whites clouds against the dark sky.

Jongdae opens his right eye, ‘No. Unless you want me to.’

Eyes looking up, ‘What?’

Jongdae did not answer, the wind still calmly blows. The salty taste in the air sets Kyungsoo at ease, I guess you could say he is savouring this moment. Swaying slightly with the rhythm of the ocean, Kyungsoo gazes out into the void, hazily, and engraving this moment in his mind, reminding himself this is real, as real as time. A deadly white streak slit the sky. Startled, Kyungsoo reached out for Jongdae. Jongdae laughs, Kyungsoo curses. 

‘Well, I better get going,’ 

‘Why?’

Kyungsoo did not answer, partly because he is paralysed by the thought of locking away in the institute, partly because, if he said it, fearing Jongdae would vapourise and the therapist winning. Jongdae stops the panic by tugging at the sleeve of Kyungsoo, ‘Why hurry, I was just playing.’

‘Playing what?’

‘Where do you want the next lightning be?’

‘I, maybe,’ Kyungsoo somehow see the moon shaking, stars drawing trials behind them, and spinning out of grasp. Jongdae pats Kyungsoo’s back, ‘What’s the matter?’ Even in crisis, the calmness of sea soaks Jongdae’s tone, and Kyungsoo envies that. Kyungsoo leans his head on Jongdae’s shoulder and tears start raining. Not a sound was spilt, that’s how they are. When Kyungsoo’s shoulders relax and his breathing evens, Jongdae tells him tales of the sea and his control over the storm, lightning alike. Kyungsoo in return tells him his trip to the therapist and how close he is to insanity. At the end, Jongdae tells him to believe in himself, find what makes your heart soar. On the way home, sneaking back through his window, getting rid of sand and laying down to sleep, Kyungsoo was trying to remember when he bid Jongdae goodbye for his mind was fatigued. 

A storm is churning outside, broken leaves, blown up debris and flying newspaper hitting on the window, troubled, his parents wake up and close their windows


	4. 4

12th Sep, 1974  
Kyungsoo’s parents brought a coloured television, to replace the black and white ones. They watched 60 minutes. They did interviews on the progress and breakthroughs on medications and treatments for different types of mental illness, ie, anxiety, depression, etc. It was a quiet dinner, as if all the amusements they found at work has evaporated and condensed on the screen. Kyungsoo is fascinated by the colours, soft and warm, which reminds him of the cozy fireplace at winter. It mentions the debate in the society, whether the government should fund mental institutions. To Kyungsoo, in plain words, translate to, madman, who can do no good in the society, is not worthy of hard money earned by tax-payers. Some argued the funding would be crucial for health care, education, even cemetery renovation. During the advertisement section, there is a new drama coming up. About a schizophrenic patient escaping the hospital and goes on slaughtering people. His eyes wide with insanity and a tilted smirk, blood scattered on his clothes but his skin is unsoiled, a scream that rang in the air after they promoted baby’s napkins. They just kept eating, careful not to drop their forks. Kyungsoo has no idea what the evil therapist instructed them to react, so he chews on vegetables, holds his cup without shaking and drinks from it, keeping his manner tidy and clean. The next interview is about the scandal in hospitals, discriminations against poor people, talked to the head manager and visited the patients. 

‘So, have you refused emergency patients because they could not pay their bills,’

‘No, it is not true.’

‘But your nurses tell me the doctors have openly refused further treatments because the procedures are too expensive, and they could not pay it.’

‘I respect and believe in the professional decisions made by the doctors.’

‘In the last two months, your hospital has sent 10 chronically ill patients back home or transfer to other hospitals.’

‘Doctors will transfer patients to abler hospitals, if the patients’ situations are beyond doctor’s ability.’

‘However, if your doctors have followed the case for a long time, why would you send them away even when they are stable?’

‘I do not participate in decision-making, so I have no ways to,’

‘But do you agree with these actions?’

‘I respect decisions made by professionals.’

‘So you think they are right.’

‘Absolutely.’

On the table, dad snickers, ‘Absolutely bastard.’

Mom has her eyes on dad and Kyungsoo has his eyes on mom. No one is speaking, and the staring toned down to occasional sidelong glances. 

‘This is the policy, what can you do?’

‘This is the policy, that is the law, we can do nothing about it, blah, blah, blah, heard it for all my life.’

‘So what your genius mind suggest? Huh? Change the system?’

‘No one asked you to change it! You are always swinging to the extreme of things!’

‘Then, what should i do?’

‘Do a damn thing! Suggest your doctors to cure them quicker, or get them a job as soon as they can take care of themselves. You are always slowing things down so you can make more money!’

‘Oh la la. The blame is on me!’

‘Of course it is on you. You who breed a freak!’ 

‘Calm down, stop, calm down.’  
‘Don’t you tell me what to do.’

‘I said calm down, just don’t fight,’ Kyungsoo whispered in defeat as his voice drowned out by screeches, ‘Don’t break the plate!’ 

‘Then what have you done? Stuck your ass in the laboratory, asking me for money, and eats all my salary. Hell, you did not even wash the dishes, let along the daily chores. And now, you are one buck away from fired! You are the true retard of this house!’

‘I am working on miracles, long-distance broadcast, and you?’

‘Me what? At least I keep this house tidy and clean, like a normal flat. You have contributed nothing. Nothing!’ His mom spat the words out. The volume shook the glass and Kyungsoo stood motionless, wishing to be unnoticed. As Kyungsoo watches the scene unfold, he separates each moment into still images, and somehow the perpetuity transfer peace, just in that split second, a wash of peace overcame him. But the noise soon breaks the stillness and stitches each image together, into continuity. Each sound puncture onto his eardrums, and he could do nothing, except looking on and agonising on the inside.

‘Yes, yes. Keep the house clean and keep a freak, that’s all you do?’ Dad slams his fist into the table, his face red under the effect of red wine, his strained finger pointing straight at Kyungsoo, between his eyes. ‘I should’ve known, how silly.’

This is how the argument usually end, his dad sinking into self-pity and his mom disregarding his existence and mentally dispose him as she takes out the rubbish. But, day in caged school and night in a falling apart home, without time to unwind, like a overworked machine. 

‘What can I do?’ Kyungsoo’s heart is cold as metal so his words cooed calmly, like the nightly waves of the sea. ‘Should I end this whole affair? How, though?’

Their eyes shot up, and his dad stumbled backwards and collapsed into the chair, his mom rushes to stabilises the drunkard before he falls face first. Like a visit to the zoo, a hungry lion roaring at anyone comes near the fence, with the blood red mouth engulfing the vision, and blades lining at the rear, people are gripped in fear, but the fence would defeat the lion and viewers will triumph in the leaving of the lion, the belittled figure as his fur falls and his tail trailing behind, they would laugh as they move on to the next cage. But there is no fence between the son and parents, so the parents are perpetually trapped in fear, in their eyes, Kyungsoo is still their son but with a dangerous impulse and an unreadable mind. Kyungsoo becomes the reservoir of emotions, water overflows and runs wildly into the sea, dread comes and dries up all that is left. He wants to laugh, at their stupid faces, until he cries, but they just boiled down a blank expression. Kyungsoo left for his room, ‘to do homework’. He looked in the mirror, scared he might see blood dripping down his nose and the shaky twinkling of his eyes. He just see himself, his face swimming inside the two brown irises. He puts down the mirror, he slacked into the darkness. Crying beads of tears, dirpping onto the wooden floor, onto his pillowcase, onto his dreams. He surrenders. 

13th Sep, 1974

Kyungsoo wakes up before his parents, dons his clothes and leaves the house. The tuscan sun is barely rising, everything is grey with dust and gloom. He just wanders on the streets, drifting like a lonely shaft, he looks but not seeing anything, bumped into trees, or was it a passenger? Tripped over stones, walks into the motorway, luck is with him for he is still in one piece. When the sky is yellow near the bottom and blue near the top, with rainbow in between, his feet take him to the school and Kyungsoo naps with the yellow sun through the blinds. He wakes up the scattering sound of heel taps and the roaring of teacher, Chanyeol was doodling on his notebook with his head on his left hand, peacefully humming a tune. 

‘Hey, hyung ,’ 

‘Hi, Channie,’ 

Chanyeol’s eyes stay on Kyungsoo, like a painter learning all the details on a masterpiece, he finally remarks, ‘Have you been crying?’

‘It’s just the lack of sleep that is puffing my eyes up like balloons,’

‘I miss your double-lid,’ Chanyeol grins cheekily, his white perfect teeth on full display. Full of joy, Chanyeol’s hands dispel the clouds before Kyungsoo’s sleepy eyes. 

‘Close your mouth before I see your breakfast,’

Chanyeol opens his mouth and laughs, ‘You won’t see ‘em ‘cause I ain’t eatin’ ‘em’

‘Gosh, the rumbling from your stomach is gon’ drown out the teachers,’ Kyungsoo rubs his eyes and remembers the sandwich he brought earlier, but forgot to eat. He takes it out. Chanyeol’s eyes pins on the paper bag. Kyungsoo offers it to Chanyeol, Chanyeol waves it away, and polite nos stream out. However, the bright smile has dimmed into a tight line. 

‘My mom made this sandwich, she said it is a gift for you. She’s just being dramatic with the brand new idea of Kyungsoo’s friend. Eat it before my mum scolds me for being impolite,’ Upon hearing this, Chanyeol asks further questions and Kyungsoo urges Chanyeol to ‘just have it’.

‘Please tell her I am grateful for the gift and it tastes amazing,’ Chanyeol wolfs down the sandwich, almost eating the paper bag in the progress. 

‘Stop spoiling her, she would just end up making trays and trays of food,’ Kyungsoo notes, with a roll of eyes. 

Chanyeol is such a pretty boy, with big innocent eyes, bright like suns with lashes radiating out like sun rays, and the elf ears that are half hidden behind the his long brown locks, his soft- edged feature emits soft glows, like a girl’s. It is no doubt that every mirror has seen Chanyeol’s handsome pose. Kyungsoo thinks as he stares out of the window, into the garden, with the window reflecting the classroom back to him. The birds stand on the branch, right in Kyungsoo’s hand and flies out of frame. Kyungsoo croaks his head, in order to follow the bird, and finds it drifting with the clouds. When all motions have died, the garden’s flowers have all withered and leaves murky green like dried basil. The trees billow and students shuffle with alarm blaring. 

And when Kyungsoo talks about his school life at dinner, the leaves floating in the ebbs of the soup, reminds him of the buoyant aura of Chanyeol, and the reflection, though distorted, smiles back at him


	5. 6

The moon is sinking into the clouds, but shining ever more brightly, woven lights into the air, fabricating a paradise in the trees. Kyungsoo escapes into his reality, stopping at a park, spotting an old lady staring out into the woods. Tall willows, boundless, extending ever away, wavering in the wind, creating a veil before the moon, and she just sits amidst in these, listening to the wind howling past her. She is unmoving, silent, solitary. Kyungsoo wonders what is capturing her attention, impatient, making out shapes amidst, all he sees is rising and falling of swamping dark leaves, one or two grizzled. Tired for searching an end, which is indistinguishable from the sky, brutally cut clean by stars. He sits next to her, paper-crisp. Curious, the downfall and the rise of humanity would be enrapturing, usually, but now, it seems to be the only force, permeate through his life. 

‘What are you looking at?’

‘I am looking for...’ she pauses. ‘I really do not know.’

‘Why aren’t you with your kids?’

‘Shouldn’t you ask it yourself?’ The shaggy skin on her finger wavered. ‘Why are you going? Never sees you around.’

‘I am going to the sea.’

‘It is just next to this forest!’

‘You know this too?’

‘Who doesn’t?’ Smiling like Kyungsoo’s grandmother, so gentle. ‘Why?’

‘I like it.’

‘Who is in it?’

‘Who is in it? How about you?’

‘For me, people who passed into my life and out.’ Smiling like Kyungsoo’s grand an, when Young Kyungsoo is looking up at her, still suckling his thumbs. 

‘Then, I guess...’

‘Whoever it is, remember it is just a idealised yourself and future. We project the best onto our loved ones.’

‘Is that true for parents?’ His voice breaks. 

‘I cannot tell. They decide for themselves. But, it will pass, happiness, pain, sorrow.’

When she says that, to Kyungsoo, he sees. A transparent figure, distilled of emotions, depleted of vigour, a state of peace, a state of death, a state of perpetuality, just like his grandfather. 

‘Young man, live while you still can,’ her eyes shed a cold tear, claimed by the moonlight. Then, her gaze returns to the ever-expanding plain. 

Kyungsoo promptly left the forest because dew are in his hair and socks, and the cold is replacing the blood in his pumping veins, shudders at the sudden clearing of the sky, he left. Leaving for the sea. The warm waves on the warm shore. 

Jongdae was waiting for him, feet buried in the sand, eyes flickering in that of innocence. Kyungsoo quietly slides into the seat next to Jongdae. The clouds are passing over the moon, shining on Jongdae’s face. 

‘You are beautiful,’ Kyungsoo says, Jongdae’s curves illuminated and smoothed in the blue moonlight. 

‘People tell me that everyday. Took you long enough to discover.’

Lulled by the sparkle on the sea and in Jongdae’s eyes, Kyungsoo feels his mind blown away by the wind, along with the sand on the beaches. Flying together, Kyungsoo makes sure that Jongdae is by his side. 

‘How’s your friend? Your new friend?’

‘He disappears,’ Jongdae pouts, drawing thunderbolts on sand,   
‘I never get to see him again.’

Kyungsoo draws a circle next to Jongdae’s. ‘What’s that?’ Kyungsoo presses shallow depressions into the circle, an elegant women flying with loose clothes. (AN: Borrowed from a myth. The shadow on the moon is associated with a goddess and a rabbit.)

A few claps of thunder flash across the sky as Jongdae exclaims, ‘Is it a moon?’

‘It could be anything.’ 

‘Liar!’ Jongdae throws a fit of sand at Kyungsoo, and sings, ‘Liar!’

‘Why are you so childish?’ 

‘Try it yourself then, you can never. At the end, I’m winning!’

Each time Kyungsoo cups a fistful of sand, it would slip, leaving grains trapped in the creases of his palm. When the moon reflects on the spray of tiny fragments, a beautiful arc, like the silvery river in the sky, drifts. Transfixed by the beauty, Jongdae tries letting the sand flow while running, a silvery ribbon ripples through the murky sky. Kyungsoo records the image in his notebook, hopeful that Chanyeol would recreate this image. But feelings pass without ever coming back. Languishing in moon, watching Jongdae talking to the sea, Kyungsoo stays, reluctant to go home.


	6. 7

Kyungsoo starts the day with sun in his irises, patting off sand on his bedsheet, walking on the streets and stopping at the crossroad. He watches a feather stirred up by a naughty gust, carried away, white and soft like snow, silky like a fresh bud, slightly black at the tip, untainted by dirt. Until it’s flying out of Kyungsoo’s sight, his heart a bit shaken, he continues his journey. Not for us, we’ll follow the feather. There it is! Rolling with the slightest turbulence, suddenly puffing so high then plummeting down. The wind changes so it is stuck on the window panel. We be Ghosting in the trees, while a voice screeches.

‘Why is there sand on the floor?’

‘Sand?’

‘And a shell too!’

A silence follows, the wind stills, the voices hold their breath. 

‘Could it be from the garden?’

‘Are you stupid? Do you even leave your lab? Mud is brown, but sand is golden.’

‘Golden? Could it be dirt?’

‘I said golden, not grey nor black.’

While they are searching for further clues, a withered flower lay on the table, basking in innocent kisses from Apollo. Kyungsoo has been clever, leaving no written document about his safe heaven, nor palpable evidence. But his parents’ are tired, nerves heightened while mulling over bills, clinging dear to their job, and fighting to perform better, better than their past records, than their peer’s present records, they are drained out. They mistook the faint thunderclaps at night as their son’s irrational outbursts, deemed his trip to grocery too long, his sad face as a prevailment of insanity. Tumbling over the plates on the table, they clutch the phone and ring up their beloved psychiatrist. 

‘How about tomorrow?’

‘Yes, yes, thank you. How much?’

Their faces pale at the cost, ‘Payment made by tonight?’

Another deadly silence follows, the dead twitches in their graves, laughing at their burdened bodies, working so hard to stay rosy and plum. Shall sobs erupt as she holds her son’s shirt close, dad scoffs her weak trembling firgure, telling her to spare her tears, when his head is heavy with dews. Traces of sand whitened as water evaporates. Troubles appear in form of sweat, tears and, sometimes, seawater. Dad’s ‘causation’ mind travels from lab to Kyungsoo’s room, blaming it on the school, the government, fantasying agents poisoning his water, with bills foaming white, and engulfs by the sea of thoughts. Two fanatic human cease at the sight of the withered flower, white browning at the edges. Nobody dares to touch it, not even a zephyr, quietly the flower stares. The room is purified in the halo of the withered, every object tells a soft tale of their beloved son. What to do? Who to trust? With their head in the cloudy atmosphere, disturbed by radio waves and bombarded by cosmic rays, they surrender to work, bury themselves in the bustling of elbows and jumps into the arresting chains of work.

‘Kyungsoo-ah! Kyungsoo-ah!’ Chanyeol coos next to Kyungsoo who is concentrated on his problems. ‘Listen to our performance, please!’ 

Pushing up his glasses, with narrowed eyes and a punch to Chanyeol, who dodged. Kyungsoo compromises, ‘I was working, wasn’t I? But, you got lucky this time.’

‘Just once I promise. We’ve worked hard on this!’ Chanyeol blabbered in the corridor leading to the music room, then whispered. ‘By the way, you are helping me with math afterschool right?’

Throwing the sandwich bag into the bin, Kyungsoo smiles, ‘Of course! If you don’t ditch me.’

‘No one would ever want to make our pretty boy sad,’ Before Chanyeol could utter another cliche, They arrived at the music room.When they get settled and warm up, the duo sings a song composed by Chanyeol, with poetry collected by Kyungsoo, from Jongdae’s sweet talk with the sea, when he was dreamy and lulled to soft murmurs of the clouds. 

‘Hello, angel  
Is your love for me perpetual   
As The lullaby of the stars,   
wise and blind,  
You blink upon us, when river   
rustles by, Rustling your lovely hair  
dazzled and Blind  
By your ever softening glow.

The clouds are apart  
Shall they ever touch the land  
Rupture! In their caresses  
And angel cries in muffled cotton

When I look up at the sky  
Cruel cruel Moon!  
Why unveil your face in grimace!  
Thus doves never nest in your embraces  
With thy cold, cold shards of silver.’

Free Flowing melody with Wendy’s aloof vocals, sudden plucking of the guitar replaced the legato piano, and the unveiling the bass, and the song falls into a bare undertone. And ends abruptly at two minute mark (Kyungsoo checks with the stopwatch. breathing shallowly, in order not to disrupt the song, when it ends however, Kyungsoo hears the pulsating drum in his chest. With tears entrapped, Kyungsoo cheers with a blinding smile.

‘Encore!’ Kyungsoo chants, Wendy blushes while Chanyeol shreds his guitar to create celebratory noises, they start with a simple melody, inviting Kyungsoo to join. The trio, then, sings enchanting tunes, Kyungsoo’s soulful calls with Chanyeol husky accompaniment, and Wendy’s bell-like response, together sewing a wilderness full of mystery. The bell will have to go, and they will have to split up for their next classes. Pray they shall leave with echos in their ears. 

When the school ends, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol stays in a classroom. Setting a goal, and working towards it. Kyungsoo is relieved to find that Chanyeol understands most of the concept, but like a sword without polishing, it rusts. Kyungsoo prepared exercises for Chanyeol to work on, and hard problems for himself to chew on. Sometimes Kyungsoo would invite Chanyeol to join in the thinking, Chanyeol would belittle himself with excuses of ‘suck at math’. Kyungsoo would have none of these and forces Chanyeol to do it. They would talk of possibilities and do the verifications. Just like that, shadows pale and sun sleeps. With darkness befallen on them and security chasing them out of the campus, a bell tinkled in Kyungsoo’s mind, picking up where Chanyeol left off, Kyungsoo finds a new way of getting round the obstacle. They scribbled on the wall, and found the solution. Skipping down the bumpy road, they exchanged a high five. Chanyeol stayed at Kyungsoo’s home, playing some fragments of tunes, Kyungsoo hums along, the leaves dancing in the background. Rolling, rolling. 

‘Channie, why have I not seen you around in the neighbourhood before?’

“ ‘Cause my mom wasn’t able to handle both my father and a drooling toddler alone. So I lived with my aunt until I can take care of myself.’

‘Can we help?’ Kyungsoo asks tentatively, with his big eyes searching for discomfort. Chanyeol grins, ‘Yes! Come and listen to our rehearsal!’

‘You’re unbelibubble,’ proud at his own pun, Kyungsoo relaxes, while Chanyeol doubled over with beads of laughter in his eyes. 

Chanyeol left, again, with bags of warm cookies and warmer words. When the warm is blown away into another house. Kyungsoo shivers while quickly closing the door. 

After the exhausting day, even sadness is down the drain. ‘You are going to the psychiatrist tomorrow.’ 

‘What? Why?’

‘Just go,’ even dad is tired, putting down his fork next to the barely touched meal and leaves for his room. Kyungsoo turns his questioning gaze to mum, but no reply has come, for she is preoccupied with the reports of her patients. Fear of unexpected overrides the distrust with the diagnosis. All they need is a powerful evidence that knock the air out of their lungs, however twisted. 

While Kyungsoo is sitting in the lecture, his eyes flickering shut and open, his mind painfully reminisce the ‘before’ days. 

‘Soo-ah! Yesterday, I found an aged shipwreck next to the Sleepinghood island!’ 

Kyungsoo would always laugh at the absurd name Jongdae gives to the islands. They had spent hours and days trying to name the lonely croucher on the sea. While Kyungsoo is giving them elegant names, like French, Jongdae is all over the place, like Bad-Days-for-Hairdresser-results-Dog-Chewed-Hair, claiming it is the best name for the ragged, bald hill with just dots of vegetation. How they would chase each other while barking laughter, cutting their feet on oyster shells, tumble into the sand, shake their heads and chase others into the sea. Jongdae waves his hands in the sunlight, describing the ship. Kyungsoo’s heart perked with excitement, remembering the manners his family has equipped him with, he said,

‘Unlucky ships.’

‘I even saw a skeleton! Come, let’s visit it!’

Kyungsoo shivers at the thought of empty sockets soulless eyes judging his nakedness. 

‘Don’t be like that! They don’t bite! Plus, I haven’t seen sharks around?’ 

‘What do you mean! Sharks?’ Kyungsoo screeches, ‘I’m not feeding sharks!’

‘Dolphins will help us, come on, let’s go! Please!’ 

‘Dolphins-‘ before Kyungsoo could protest, Jongdae had jumped into the sea, leaving his clothes on the beach. Reluctantly, Kyungsoo kicked all his clothes onto the glistening sand and followed Jongdae. 

The sea water was chilling even under the glares of the sun. Jongdae has theorised that the sea and the sun had had an argument, and thus, they are of the opposite temperature, and the sea had an affair with the moon, thus, the sea tides rises when the moon is near. Jongdae appeared out of nowhere and slashed water onto Kyungsoo’s precious face, Kyungsoo revenged with pouring mouthful of water onto Jongdae, a water battle had begun. Somehow, they end up singing ‘ancient’ songs with each other. Kyungsoo’s voice drips with bitterness, (little did he know his worries are those of triviality compared to adulthood), earthy with fragrance of grass; Jongdae with his penetrating vocals shake one’s pillars, clear like the crystal oceans, sweet like honey. They made up lyrics to unknown tunes, and laughed at each other’s off notes. Kyungsoo waved his arms like he was flying, carried by the currents. 

‘It’s here!’ Jongdae sing-songed. Beneath him, a muddle of brown, with long arms of seaweed waving hellos. Kyungsoo tentatively waved back, smiling sheepishly as distorted surface swayed the seaweed further. Jongdae pulled Kyungsoo down the water. Together, they dived into the sapphire blue. Fishes flashed past before them, their slimy skin brushed past Kyungsoo’s skin, some tickled himself with their adorable pecks. Kyungsoo was eight back then. Swimming into the vast blue, diving down to unknown shipwreck. Brown metal weakened to that of twigs, crumbling under claws of lobsters. Oyster shells had accumulated with their steady growing colonies. White with green moss on top, water grumbles lowly, gulping down sunlight, watching lights circling in water, sheens of rainbow wrapping around them. Temporarily forgotten to breath, he struggled to surface. Jongdae gives Kyungsoo a little push, Kyungsoo thinks Jongdae is breath-taking in the rippling water. Breath-taking, Kyungsoo thought as he gasps for air. 

When they were idly floating, sun in their eyes. Jongdae whistles like wind. They then played on the beach. Until the sun went down, and bled all the pretty colours. Red, orange, yellow. Then, pink and purple and blue. They watched the moon, unaware of its movement. Until it had reached a new height and dropped back down. It was mesmerising, nothing but moon was in their mind. It was a small circle, but they tracked her movements reluctantly, time flew, they were still not aware of the new position of the moon, like sand escaping their hands, they did not realise until all sand had slipped away. However, it was so quiet. They had conversations but none of them made into the chambers of memories. It was so calm, with nothing possibly on their mind. In a trance. Guess you can say. 

Kyungsoo is now seventeen. Dreaming, neon travelling in people’s veins, green meadow on patients’ faces, bobbing green lines in electrical diagrams; a train’s howling by, machines hammering, bending iron sheets; and a vast vast vast vast ocean. So vast, the whole of human population will have to cry for their lifetimes to fill it up, and it is filling up, spewing over brims and engulfing Kyungsoo. 

Mum is not here to cuddle Kyungsoo in his nightmares, nor kiss him goodnight. In the hospital, working night shifts, to earn more money. Dozing off to sleep only to be woken up by the blaring of alarms. Before her vision is cleared, the tiny blinking red light jolts her awake. 

‘Extremely low blood pressure! Cation!’ She rushes to get sodium chloride solution, injecting it into the patient’s veins, him who faints, to increase blood volume in order to increase blood pressure. The only night shift doctor is in the toilet, and the two nurses are working their nerves off. Waiting impatiently, while not being able to help, but not daring enough to leave the bedside. They stare helplessly, keeping the patient awake with incessant encouragements. Doctor is finally here, shouting as more medicine shots up his veins. Runs through the corridor, gets through the emergency room, watching the vital signs throbbing weakly, the nurses shut the door, and they go back to the ward. Watching the clock tick as her senses shut down. She dozes off again, waking up only to disinfect the CVC line, shot more antibiotics, but consciousness stayed for the sunrise. Then, her shift is over. She comes back home, showered, sleeping in the bath, woke up at the shivering icy cold soap water. She did not even acknowledge her starving stomach as she collapsed into the deafening silence, onto the colder bed. 

Dad is up by the dawn. Getting into his lab coat and goggles, he works on the computer. When working on radio wavelengths, he wonders if computer can receive any EM waves like radio, so computers can communicate in the atmosphere and the world will find themselves together all the time. Doing experiments, fixing the mistakes and talking with himself. His colleagues start to fill up the empty space next to him, and they talk for possible plans while complaining about everything in the society, from food to social welfares. When lunch comes, with bread supplying the super computer underneath the roof of bones, he decides to prioritise microwave over the communicating EM waves computer. Finding the right material to shield consumers from microwaves while his body eats up all the radiation. 

When they are home, looking at the acquainted son, and watching the rumours that condense into truths. They are so tired, ears ringing with alarms, behind the closed lids blinks the laboratory emergency button, the comfy scent of candles is definitely pulling their strings. Slumped shoulders, blood-shot eyes, back crushed by uncertainties, with fear gripping at their throats. Who says that being an adult is always easy?


	7. 8

Kyungsoo gets up before twilight, when dawn in still yawning in her lullaby. Spitting toothpaste into the sink and welcoming holiday with a glance to the clock. 7:30 it reads, and Kyungsoo wonders why is he up so early. The trees sneezes, Kyungsoo muses, there is a sudden pulse of wind and trees twitch as though sneezing. There is a knock on the door, his parents too fast asleep to notice. Skipping, he reaches the door and peers carefully through the hole. 

‘Chanyeol?’ Kyungsoo swiftly opens the door. 

‘Hey, Kyungsoo! I am wondering whether we can study math today?’

‘Such early in-’

‘Good morning, son,’ Stopping abruptly in the corridor, dad calls out, ‘who’s at the door?’

‘It’s me! Good morning uncle!’ Chanyeol waves vehemently. 

‘What you up to?’ Glancing at the clock. ‘It is early in the morning.’

‘I want to study math with soo, um, Kyungsoo. And play a bit! It is a holiday!’

‘Play? Sure. Kyungsoo makes sure you have finished your essays and the revision for the exam. Come back home after the dark,’ after a thoughtful silence. ‘Chanyeol, have a nice time.’

‘Soo! Come on!’

‘I need to change first. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.’

Packing his bag and donning his clothes, he can hear the twitter of birds. He spots two of them right outside his window. 

‘Let’s go!’ Two boys out of chains of school, they flee for freedom as they scare away the birds. White feather and yellow leaves showering down. 

‘Where are we heading?’ Kyungsoo asks as he pats dirt of his shoulder, and tip toeing to pick leaves out of Chanyeol’s soft hair. Chanyeol beams, crescent eyes light up the universe. 

‘How about a visit to antique shop downtown?’

Kyungsoo’s eyes crinkle, the smell of old leather and the touch of old books excite his mundane fibres. Like a old toy winds up and sprung to life, Kyungsoo jumps like a little kid, Chanyeol takes Kyungsoo’s hand as they race for the bus stop. The bus bobs on a bumpy road, while Kyungsoo stares out of the window. The trees pass by, forming a barricade of green, while the cloud dipping down, trying to touch the trees, but the trees just rush by, fast, scattering the clouds into feathery pieces. Chanyeol looks intently, at first intrigued in the passing view, however fast the excitement, it eventually ebbs away like the trees, the clouds and into a big plain meadows, fresh tender green, the colour of the budding leaves. When the exuberant green extends out forever, Chanyeol gets bored. Slightly pouting as Chanyeol catches Kyungsoo’s stoic expression. Chanyeol looks out the other side, meet with the seamless dark green of mature vegetables, Chanyeol huffs. After flitting his gaze from an object to another, Chanyeol’s eyes rest on Kyungsoo, who has closed his eyes. Chanyeol is about to investigate on the grainy road as he shifts his gaze onto the driver. A small frown weaves a web of confusion on Kyungsoo’s face, a small sigh escapes his nose, as his whole figure slumps. 

‘Soo,’ Chanyeol whispers. He did not get an immediate response, as Chanyeol watches the whisper dissipate into the thin air. Kyungsoo turns his head a second too late and startles Chanyeol a bit. Kyungsoo smiles a bit and whispers, mirroring Chanyeol, ‘What’s the matter?’ Chanyeol wonders if he is hallucinating the whole ‘frown and sigh’. 

‘Is there something on your mind?’ 

‘No? Why would I?’

Chanyeol smiles, ‘You know you can always tell me! About your weird formulas and stuff.’

Kyungsoo’s lips tug a bit upward, his eyes rivers of slow flowing yellow leaves, sealed by his irises, and tugged in the corner in his smile. Chanyeol is not all too convinced at the response. So he asks again, hoping Kyungsoo would not get mad at him.

‘Pinky promise?’

‘Promise what?’

‘That if anything is on your mind, however stupid and trivial, just anything that trouble you. You will always know that I will be here? Ready to listen?’ Chanyeol fidgets a bit. 

Kyungsoo laughs, a hearty one. ‘But, I already know you that? You just say that last week?’ 

‘You never seem to be listening,’ Chanyeol mutters. ‘But...’

Kyungsoo hums, his eyes in the sun, light streaming down on the meadow. Chanyeol takes a deep breath. 

‘You know our performance?’ Squirming in his seat as Kyungsoo’s attention is fully on Chanyeol again. ‘I always feel like something is missing. I do not know what. Just something.’

Taking a small breathe and pinches himself, ‘It is stressing me out. When it is imperfect, but I don’t know what. I can’t pinpoint. It is a flaw my system picks up but my brain is too stupid to do any detection. And I cannot do anything about it. Nothing. I feel so stupid. But I don’t know what.’

Kyungsoo breaths out a hey to stop the rumbling mess next to him. ‘Why don’t you tell me. Where does this unsettling feeling kick in?’

‘Everywhere, every time I perform the song.’

‘Is it in the instrument?’

‘No.’

Kyungsoo stops, collecting his thoughts as Chanyeol looks as if Kyungsoo is the embodiment of sunlight. 

‘Why don’t you sing the song again?’

‘What? NO!’ Chanyeol shakes as his furious hair bounces around. His long arms flailing around, ready to hit anything that comes in sight. The passenger next to Chanyeol grumbles as she fixes her make-up for the tenth times. Kyungsoo grimaces as Chanyeol apologises. 

Why so dramatic? Kyungsoo thought, as Chanyeol settles himself into another decipher on the back of the chair. 

Kyungsoo nudges him and rather lamely says, ‘It is okay.’ And quickly adds, ‘Maybe it is missing harmony, you know, background harmony to give it texture.’  
Chanyeol briefly looks up as stars swirl in his gaze before panicking, ‘You are right. But who is going to do the harmony?’

‘You,’ Kyungsoo states, rolling his eyes as Chanyeol is about to make a fuss again. ‘Obviously.’

‘Why?’ Chanyeol sinks into the seat, only to be jolted as they ride over a big stony bump. ‘Oh heavens why.’

‘You voice would compliment Wendy’s clear vocals perfectly. You know. Perfect,’ Kyungsoo meant every word he says, resolving to tease his troubled friend a bit. 

‘You must be joking.’

‘I promised to say everything on my mind. You won’t be regretting it now, right?’ Kyungsoo teases Chanyeol a bit further. 

Sitting suddenly upright and with a stark look of cold determination, Chanyeol starts, ‘I would never, ever break my promise. You can trust me on that.’

Kyungsoo is a tad bit taken back and jumps when the car smoothly crashes down a descent. ‘I’m going to throw up after this ride.’ He splutters out. ‘But, alas, relax. I was just joking.’

Chanyeol looks a bit green in face as they rode over a haggard place. Rubbing his eyes and pinching his nose, his flesh does tense when the bus flies, over the arch of skies and daisies. Kyungsoo tells Chanyeol to look out of the window, where the green is never changing, this will cure the motion sickness, he says. Soon, they lean on each other, Kyungsoo drifting to a cloud, sweet with sleep and warm like sheep. Chanyeol holds the elder close, like a fragile porcelain, careful not let crowd’s howls woke, the snoring slumber in his brace, a slumber softer than a praise. Resting Kyungsoo’s head on his shoulder, his chest swells, brimming with security and joy. The joy is short lived and the bus pulls to a halt. Shaking slumber off his eyes, the welcomed the city with expectant eyes. Chanyeol is grateful that he did not throw up.

‘Lead the way, Channie!’

Tor preoccupied with the invasive splash of colours on the streets, they wander like lost puppies. Somehow, by asking people and looking at their outdated map, they manage to find the antique shop.


	8. 5

Kyungsoo sat in his seat, manoeuvring over math formulas, projecting them onto the white walls. However, the chattering interferes with his reasoning, and breaking away from it, he stumbles back to reality. Wendy and Chanyeol are talking about forming a band. Absorbed in joy, Wendy’s ponytail danced and Chanyeol taps out the rhythm. Kyungsoo realises that they are entering the realm of hope — district talent show in December, where their personal dreams shine out of the public spotlights. Watching their passion bubbles out of their words brings Kyungsoo peace so resting his head on his hand, ears dreamily catch on and glow of sun hazily fades, Kyungsoo hums a ballad and his mind meanders back to math. The confusing phenomenon he observed ages ago becomes apparent. He quietly scribbles down the steps and checks closely for mistakes. When all is settled, Kyungsoo breathes out his excitement and inhales relief. When Chanyeol asks him what is it, Kyungsoo giddily says, ‘single-slit light diffraction and grating light diffraction. Some hypothesises on differences and I proved some right and some wrong. I am going to the library and see if there is any official proof.’ Though Chanyeol barely understands anything as he has never seen such a thing, if it is even a ‘thing’, he simply enjoys basking in happiness with Kyungsoo. Chanyeol wonders if Kyungsoo notices even the imperceptible, the slight vibration from air-conditioners, the change in colour on their cheeks, the secrets in hushed wind, with his twitching ears, his big eyes, and the meticulous-calculating mind, no wonder under his tired eyes, there are dark ripples. Chanyeol likes Kyungsoo better when he is laughing, his heart-shaped lips open up, the tension drained out of his body, and relax into breathlessness, eyes lighting up into crescent moons, and when his solitary friend is part of the group.

Class starts, clock ticks, and class is over. Recess starts in the basket-ball field. Girls leisure in the sunlight, boys break a sweat, noise runs loose in the open space. Kyungsoo sits in the warm shade, decides to have a taste of sweet air before suffocating himself with double history lessons. Apparently, everybody on the field feels the same. Kyungsoo breaths in the fragrance of grass and watches on, the lychee tree bearing bright-red fruits, a badminton trapped in the leaves. He leaves the field two minutes prior to next class. 

Class starts, time flies, and school is over. The field is instantly full of people, their shoes squeak as they rush for the ball, shouting and waving simultaneously, to distract passengers, Kyungsoo observes as he passes by. He was home and he was gone, clutching a grocery list written by mum. The playground next to the grocery shop is filled with kids, screaming as they run away from each other, some hiding in the short bushes, pinching their noses to hold their breath. Kyungsoo shudder when he walk into the wall of cold air, the silence in the supermarket reminds him of library, except this smells like strawberries. He shuffles through aisles of dairy and gets a cartoon of milk. The library-like silence was soon interrupted by urgent calls of supermarket manger. 

‘I need someone to put this box of corn on the racks! Quick! Is the newbie available?’

‘Coming!’ 

A voice so familiar, it is almost palpable, when the face emerges from the huddle of grey, Kyungsoo stops, caught off guard, and hides behind an aisle. The manager left as another problem occurred in the fruit section. The boxes and boxes of corn again reminds Kyungsoo of exam paper accumulating in a corner, forming a brown knoll, rotting away. Decides that he has time to spare, Kyungsoo greets Chanyeol. 

‘Hey, Chanyeol,’

‘Oh! Hi! Hyung! Buying milk?’

‘Yeah, I guess, along with a bunch of things,’

Flows a silence while Kyungsoo helps Chanyeol to arrange the corns. 

‘Hyung. I can take care of this, go do your grocery.’

Kyungsoo does not answer but instead asks a question, ‘why are you not home?’

‘Some financial problems. Plus, this job is comfy,’ Chanyeol laughs his goofy laugh to prove his last statement.

‘You can apply scholarship?’

‘Not smart enough, what can I say? Only rich kids get time to study like a maniac and get good grades.’

‘Nah, they waste them on the field.’

‘Wait til final exams, wanna bet?’

‘You idiot, but how about the talent show?’

‘It is not a stable income, pays too little, plus, there is no guarantee we would win,’

‘You will win, I am surer about that than 1+1=2,’ Kyungsoo pipes in, ‘I heard that you sell your original melodies?’

‘They are not complete songs, so, do not worth a lot, well, not enough to support. They despise the lyrics that I wrote. They do have good poets, though, it is a real pleasure to see beautiful lyrics accompany the melody. What more could you ask? Still, if I want to study, I have to work another job.’

‘By the way when is your shift ending?’

‘It already ends.’

‘What? Why are you still here,’

‘It is just overtime,’

‘Poor gal. I’m gonna report this supermarket to labour department.’

‘Don’t! Please don’t! The manager is the nicest, out of all,’

Kyungsoo gives a side long glance to Chanyeol then the empty space the manager left, signs through his nose. ‘Do you want me to help you with math?’

‘How do you know I almost failed math last semester?’ Chanyeol winks playfully.

‘Lair, you are smarter than that. Still, I take it as a yes?’

Chanyeol replies with an air kiss and mutters, which flew right pass Kyungsoo’s ears. Then, Chanyeol helps to check Kyungsoo’s grocery out. As they trudge along the road to home, talking about anything to banish the deafening summer buzz, children have returned home, only the fallen leaves are chasing each other, newspaper on the swing. The sunset is in the shades of soft violet and pink, the girl’s palace in the sky, Kyungsoo loves this colour blend, obviously, Chanyeol too, as they gazes into the sky, twisting the clouds to their projected future, blue, a pair of blue lips and a blue baby; red, a pair of blood-shot eyes and a red lady, still the colours so soft, nothing seem to be better so they let it stay, let it fade, let it go, into darkness. Lamp lights stare cold and hard while stars twinkle, behind the misty cloud. They shared some of their visions, Kyungsoo’s ‘truth’ crushes Chanyeol’s fantasy, while Chanyeol’s dreams upset Kyungsoo’s ‘reality’, but future holds such ambiguity, who are they to say anything? So they settle for a utopia, a version they both share, a virtuous and kind one, as clean as a clover. In which music flows, people sing poetry with harmonious chords, with the memories of sadness and scar still etched in their minds, and resolves into cigarette smoke; where people seek the truth of universe, understand genius in simplicity, while randomness that shapes individuality laughs in their predictability; Kyungsoo secretly wishes Jongdae would be a part; Chanyeol hopes sins and virtues would be the same, and no judgement would ever fall upon them; Kyungsoo corrects him, sins still stay but no prejudice should force any act into proclaimed sin; Chanyeol readily agrees but argues that their visions are still too narrow; they guess when they grow up, they would laugh into their teen good-natureness, is there harm in just thinking? Every time they pass a crossroad, they always end up walking together, silence is awkward, so they search for other things to wonder about. Unknowingly they arrive at Kyungsoo’s doorstep. 

‘Do you mind if I introduce you to my parents?’ Kyungsoo proposed, adds with a murmur while knocking on the door. ‘In case they think I’m out of my mind,’

‘Would love to! Let me tidy my hair first.’

When mum opens the door and sees Chanyeol, her motherly love wraps them warmly, albeit too tightly. 

‘Oh my! Are you friend of our dear son? That’s brilliant! Have you eaten yet? Do you like cookies? I have some do you want any? Come in! Oh how can I be so rude? Forgive me.’

The observance and sensitivity art require will help Chanyeol sail further in life, Kyungsoo commented while ago, was Kyungsoo ever mistaken? Before Chanyeol registers the current situation, Kyungsoo are already pushing him into the dimly lit living room. The sweet aroma of sugar and butter awakes ones sense, and the insatiable longing, Kyungsoo chuckles at Chanyeol’s starry eyes. This house accommodates three beautiful souls, from the miniature chandelier glittering in the shadows, to the starkly blank walls and the shells and stones on the window panel, Chanyeol’s eyes linger on the ink green leaves outside the window, in them, this home is just a put-together excepts from magazines, Chanyeol feels, Chanyeol sees, Kyungsoo’s avoidance towards family issues is the missing part in this bizarre jigsaw puzzle. Meanwhile mum is whispering to Kyungsoo,

‘Your dad would be home soon, do you mind making him stay a bit longer?’

‘Sure. No need to whisper, it is making my ears tingle.’

Mum narrows her eyes and pats her apron and whinges, ‘can’t you just play along.’ Pouting, she returns back to the kitchen just to come back with bags of cookies. Handing those hot cookies with passionate pleasantries to the warm-cheeked Chanyeol. Kyungsoo watches on as youth blooms on both of them, like spring flowers welcome spring wind, they sway and stay. Dad comes home shortly after, worn face lightens up at the newcomer, politely asks his name, his interest, his grade, though slightly upset at his love for art and his relatively low grade, dad is then relieved to learn Chanyeol has written melodies and sold them to big companies. ‘A mature boy, taking care of himself,’ quoting from dad. ‘That’s a nice achievement.’

This comment lightens Kyungsoo up, like a feather aided by the air currents, the congestion in the past few months dissipated. ‘He is stingy when giving compliments, like it pains him doing so. But, he regard you so highly that he compliments you the first time he sees you!’ Proudly, these two friends share a silent high-five. 

All of them are pleasantly surprised to know they are neighbours. The topic in a whirlwind turns to Chanyeol’s family. In the kaleidoscope of the otters of life, the optimistic are only capable of finding hope, even unreasonably, so Chanyeol shines. Mum is delighted to learn all these and gives Chanyeol five more bags of cookies, save some for tomorrow she says and feel free to take some more. Dad is just content to learn misfortune ceased to happen, at least for today. When they wave Chanyeol goodbye, Chanyeol guarantees his family will get a sugar high. 

When the hype dies down and they drops back to their comfortable equilibrium, when they eat their dinner and digest what just happened, suspicion starts to churn, seasoned with distrust. To whom? Angels chant, to those who trap themselves under the dome and fail to see beyond. But who? Angels retract their wings and hide behind clouds to reunite with Father. Calmly, dad eases the brewing hatred with a simple apologise and promise to respect Kyungsoo’s space and diaries, and was forgiven quietly. Mum cheerily announces a patient is able to walk now, after infection attacks, fell in a coma along with kidney failure. The family erupts in thankful prayers and fervent blessings. The chandelier twinkles. Kyungsoo later at night after finishes his studies in double efficiency and a clear mind, the stars are still shining. The weight on his mind fall in form of a few drops of tears, and cleanse his fogged-eyes. He is glad to see the apples blown off the branch.


	9. AN

AN: The next chapter is coming within a week!


End file.
